COSSACK CRADLE-SONG.

Sleep, my darling boy, serenely,

Bai-oosh-kie-baiou,

While the still moon, calm and queenly,

Gleams thy cradle through.

I will rise and tell thee legends,

Chaunting rhymes thereto;

Ah, thine heavy eyes are closing,

Bai-oosh-kie-baiou.

’Neath the rocks grim waves are sweeping—